


On the Outside Looking In

by keepingthefaith



Series: a storm is coming [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepingthefaith/pseuds/keepingthefaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sister of a man under the Storm Guardian’s command comes to Italy to look for her brother. Unable to find a way to get there, she gets help from a young man with peculiar silver hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Outside Looking In

**Author's Note:**

> **Plot:** The sister of a man under the Storm Guardian’s command comes to Italy to look for her brother. Unable to find a way to get there, she gets help from a young man with peculiar silver hair.
> 
>  **Setting:** Italy. A little over ten years after the series.

At the age of 25, Gokudera Hayato has made quite the name for himself.

Though thoroughly mellowed out through the years, he retains his temper but only releases his anger in appropriate moments. Of course, only those working close to him have proof of this. Everyone else, especially those that only get a glimpse of the Storm Guardian, thinks otherwise.

They’ve all heard of it after all. Tales of the Storm Guardian’s unrelenting attacks on their enemies, even allies, if irritated enough-- and oh, how easy it is to irritate him! Rumor has it that the Storm Guardian once shot a subordinate for misspelling a single word on his report. There have been whispers that his mere glare could kill, like that maid who died of a heart attack when she made the mistake of buying the wrong pack of cigarettes. The Guardian does not even spare the lives of civilians! Apparently, this civilian had bumped into the Guardian by accident, and when the Guardian’s demand of payment had been ignored, he’d shot the civilian in broad daylight. Still, despite the numerous witnesses, no report had ever been made on the incident. At least, according to an agent who heard from a maid, who then heard from another maid working in a different estate who again heard from another agent back in Italy whose team member apparently saw the whole thing!

Clearly, the Storm Guardian is not a person to be trifled with.

This, of course, is always a source of amusement for the rest of the now mature (though sometimes not) Vongola Guardians and all their various close associates. Even Sawada Tsunayoshi himself finds these rumors exceptionally humorous.

Everyone, of course, except the Storm Guardian himself.

So when Nikolai di Felice, recently hired by the Vongola and newly acquainted with the Vongola infirmary after an ambush attack, sees his sister with the Storm Guardian, he is understandably gripped with fear and panic. Had the Storm Guardian heard of his failures and come to punish him himself by using his sister against him? Would his elder sister be all right? Would they both be? He knows he’s only been a burden to his family, and that’s why he joined the Vongola to help out financially at the very least, but is this it? He hasn’t even lasted a year yet!

But then his sister runs forward and engulfs him in an embrace, and suddenly, all his fears disappear. Now, he’s just completely confused.

What is going on here?

 

 

**Some hours before**

A young woman in her late twenties with long brown and curly hair, clothed in a simple dress, and carrying few belongings with her, arrives in Italy with purpose. She’s been studying abroad for two years now but upon hearing that her younger brother, who had idiotically involved himself with the Mafia to ‘help out’, had been caught in an ambush and nearly died, she quickly took care of her business and booked a flight back home as fast as she could.

Usually very gentle, she can’t help but find herself irritated at her younger brother. Why did he think that joining the Mafia is a good idea? She admits that she knows very little about it, but it’s the _Mafia_. Everything that has to do with it is bad, right? That’s how it’s always depicted in movies and books and documentaries after all!

Frustrated, and more than a little scared for her brother, she drags her luggage outside the airport and starts hailing a cab, only to realize that she has no idea how to get to brother. Or where her brother is. She had been so overcome with worry that she hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the overwhelming need to see her brother safe and sound.

Desolate, she berates herself for acting on her emotions then wonders if she has enough money to get back home. She checks. And finds that she doesn’t. She hadn’t even had the good sense to bring her credit card.

Now she’s starting to feel the panic, but she fights it back because she knows it wouldn’t help her at all. Despite this, however, her face clearly expresses how much distress she’s in.

Then she sees it.

In moments of panic, some people are able to remember even the vaguest memories. On the day that her brother announced that he had been accepted into a Mafia Famiglia, he had enthusiastically described some members of the Family. She could be wrong, but the young man in a suit waiting a few paces away from her seems to match one of her brother’s descriptions.

Silver hair that ended slightly above the shoulders. Cool, teal eyes that calmly asses everything. A cigarette always in hand.

She knows everyone involved in the Mafia is dangerous, and under normal circumstances she’d never even entertain the idea, but her brother is more important! Taking a deep breath, she resolutely walks towards the young man before her courage falters. She’s an arm’s breadth away when the young man turns to her with a frown on his face. Surprised, she flinches at his glare but still continues to move forward.

Still struggling with what to say, she flinches again when she hears him say, “What?” in a cold, authoritative voice.

(Completely wrapped in the moment, she doesn’t notice how several men in suits move closer to her; surrounding her exits should she attempt to do anything untoward.)

Steeling herself, she brings her gaze from the floor towards his face and with determination says, “I need your help to see my brother!”

Nervous, she vaguely registers his expression as confusion, before he tilts his head in thought and asks, “Your brother?”

“Yes!” she nods, “You work for the Vongola too, right? I mean,” she falters, seeing the skeptical look on the young man’s face, “You work… for the Vongola. Right?”

Silence settles between them for a moment. And in that silence, Isabella has never felt more embarrassed and more awkward in her entire life! Had she been mistaken then? Besides, now that she’s less in panic, she suddenly starts to notice just how beautifully delicate the young man in front of her is.

That soft, silver hair, those stunning teal eyes, long, artistic fingers, and that lithe but strong figure—a guy like this can’t possibly be in the Mafia! She gapes, unable to believe how much she’s made a fool of herself in front of such a gorgeous young man!

But just as she starts to apologize, the young man suddenly nods and the once skeptical look on his face now replaced with a hesitant smile, “You are… Isabella di Felice, am I right? The elder sister of Nikolai?”

Startled, her eyes widen in surprise. With only her brother in mind, she doesn’t question how the young man knows who she is. Lost in happiness and relief, she forgets all awkwardness and hastily grabs the young man’s forearm.

(At the action, some of the men surrounding them move forward, ready to intervene. Only the glare from their _capo_ had prevented them from ripping Isabella away.)

“Please!” she says, desperation coating her voice, “Please help me see my brother! When I heard that he got injured, I didn’t think. I didn’t even ask where he was or how I could get there. I just… please? I know how harsh being in the Mafia is. But he’s my brother. I just want to make sure he’s safe.”

The young man smiles awkwardly at her, as if he’s unsure what to do. But the hand that grips hers is warm and strong and sure. She looks up at him and finds understanding in his eyes.

“I know Nikolai,” he begins, and his voice is both fond and sorrowful when he says, “He’s a good man. I… am truly sorry for what happened to him. That was… my fault. I should’ve been more careful.”

Isabella doesn’t understand what the young man is trying to say, but the sincerity in his voice is absolute. So she smiles and nods at him and for a quick second he smiles gratefully back. The sight of it sends her heart fluttering, but she knows this isn’t the time for that.

“Your brother is in a secure facility within the city. I could take you there if you wish. My car,” he pauses, noting the wary look on Isabella’s face.

“It’s,” he starts again, “actually not far from here. If you’re okay walking there, then…?”

Isabella nods, elated at the thought of finally seeing her brother after two years.

(Those close enough to hear the conversation sent disapproving looks his way, of varying intensity. But he only rolls his eyes at them, and as he takes the young woman’s luggage to carry for her, he glares and gives them all a finger behind her back.)

“Overprotective bastards,” he mutters under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asks, a little fearful she’d offended him in some way.

“It’s nothing!” he quickly assures, smiling awkwardly again at her. They quickly exit the airport premises, and unbeknownst to Isabella, followed by a trail of men in suits following calmly in their wake.

\---

It’s inevitable, but Isabella wishes she could do something about the awkwardness between them.

She knows it’s all her fault. She had practically begged the young man to take her to her brother after all. But the silence between she could do without. Following beside the young man, she unconsciously begins to look worried, trying to think of a topic, _any topic_ to talk about.

So engrossed in thought, she doesn’t notice how the young man would occasionally glance at her, expression just as worried and as awkward as her. His back is stiff and tense, and his normally graceful gait now almost hilariously robotic.

(All the men following the Storm Guardian snicker at his expense. But when the young man turns to them with a glare, they quickly school their faces back into neutral expressions, knowing that this particular Guardian’s retributions are always painful.)

Finally, she speaks, “I… I’m sorry, for all this. I-I… didn’t even ask if you were busy! I’m really so, so sorry for my selfishness!”

“It’s fine,” the young man quickly dismisses, “I was on my way there anyway. Besides, I should thank you, actually,” he says, turning a sheepish smile at her, “You gave me an excuse to finally walk around the neighborhood in peace.”

(Upon hearing this, the men following around them shake their heads in fond exasperation. Though not as flighty as the Cloud, there have been numerous times when the Storm Guardian would simply disappear—‘ _for some peace and fucking quiet_ ’ he had reasoned. And though he usually comes back unscathed, there have been times when he’d end up in the hospital instead. As subordinates under the direct command of the Storm Guardian, and as people who are constant witnesses to the Storm’s overabundance of dedication, loyalty and love for the Tenth, for the Famiglia, and for his own people, they felt it within themselves to keep the Guardian in check. And most importantly, alive. It had irritated the Guardian, inevitably. It irritates him even now. But they had sworn their lives for the Vongola. And silently, they had sworn their souls for the Storm Guardian as well. So even if their actions are irrational or unneeded, as the Storm Guardian once said; they would continue to do it, because just as dedicated and loyal the Storm is to them, so too they shall be a hundred times over.)

Isabella, who had only heard negative things about the Mafia, immediately assumes the worst.

“An excuse?” she repeats, horrified. Worried for her younger brother, she urgently asks, “I-Is the Vongola that strict? That you can’t go out unless… unless you have a _mission_ , or something?”

There had been so much terror when she’d said ‘ _mission’_ that it made the young man pause and blink. She again misinterprets the action and immediately covers her mouth with her hands. Eyes wide, she whispers, “If you can’t tell, it’s fine!” _I don’t want to die a horrible death!_ she says in her mind.

The young man looks questioningly at her, again looking unsure, but then he shakes his head and says, slowly, “I’m sure you’re misunderstanding something, Ma’am.”

“Isabella, please,” she unconsciously says.

He nods, “Isabella then.” Then he continues, “I do not know what you’ve heard about the Vongola, but I assure you that the Famiglia is not… err, a prison. Anyone can come and go as they please. It’s just,” he says, looking around, “ _Some people_ ,” he forcefully says, as if wanting someone to hear, “Have anxiety disorders who want to watch over _everything_ you do because they feel that you _can’t take care of yourself_ even if they know you’re _strong enough_ to blow up a mountain!”

Isabella blinks at this, thoroughly confused. But somehow, she understands the sentiment despite the phrasing so she smiles and says, “That’s great! I always thought that Mafiosi don’t care about each other, but it looks as if you do! I’m happy that Nikolai managed to get into a good Famiglia.”

Smiling happily to herself, she doesn’t notice the young man gaping in disbelief at her.

(The men snicker at the dumbfounded expression on the Storm’s face. It effectively snaps their _capo_ back to reality though; but not before sending a menacing glare at them. They’re all pretty much immune to their _capo’s_ glares now, however, rendering said glare ineffective—not that they’d ever admit that though.)

They’re passing by a children’s park when suddenly a ball comes flying over to them. Knowing the ball would hit her, she closes her eyes and prepares for the impact, only the ball doesn’t hit. Slowly opening her eyes, she stares in surprise at the hand above her, then at the young man beside her who is now scowling in annoyance.

A shout comes from the direction of the park, and once again she’s surprised when a child-sized blur races out and crashes into the young man beside her. The young man stumbles back from the impact, the ball still firmly in his grasp. He looks murderously at the child clinging to his waist, and gritting his teeth he says, “Brat. Fuck off.”

For a moment, Isabella is stunned speechless. She’s been trying hard to ignore it, but the man she’s with _is_ with the Mafia after all—no matter how delicate or handsome or gorgeous he looks. It’s just… he’s been so gracious with her so far, carrying her luggage for her, gently letting her pass first when the sidewalk’s too narrow, courteously positioning himself between her and the cars when they’re crossing pedestrian lanes. It’s been so easy to forget that the young man beside her is anything but the perfect gentleman.

But now she’s sees it. She sees the potential for violence storming within those teal eyes. And if a _child_ could trigger whatever violent tendencies he has, then what more with her? If she takes one wrong step, would she murder her in broad daylight?

But this is a child they’re talking about! Isabella can’t let him hard the child in front of her! Afraid, she nevertheless takes a step forward, ready to interfere should he bring out a gun or strike the child with his hands. She doesn’t know what she can do stop him, but she’ll still try.

She really should have known! What had she been thinking letting the young man beguile her like that? He almost had her believing that they’re capable of caring! Mafiosi are dangerous, murderous, and bloodthirsty people after all! Once she gets a hold of her brother, she’s taking him away whether he likes it or not!

But then the child breaks away from the Mafioso, and when Isabella looks at him, she’s stunned once again to find the child _smiling_.

“Hayato!” he yells, eyes bright and clearly happy, “How long have you been back! Why didn’t you say you were coming back! And who’s she?! Is she your girlfriend? Do you like girls older than you? What about my mama, then?! I could—,”

Hitting the child ever so lightly on the head, the young man frowns at him disapprovingly before saying, _fondly_ , “First of all, that’s Mr. Hayato to you.”

And, oh how shameful! Even though she’s only been with him for a couple of minutes, Isabella slightly berates herself for not getting his name. She knows she won’t be able to see the man after this, but she is truly grateful. And even as they’ve been walking awkwardly, she’s been unconsciously thinking about what to give the other man in return for his kindness.

But speaking of kindness… The child knows this man? Is the child involved in the—

Gasping in realization, she softly asks, “Does the Vongola employ children, too?”

He looks sharply at her, his frown, although not angry, disappointed instead. She doesn’t understand why, but before she can ask, he quickly returns to the child and says, “Second, Isabella and I have just met. It’s just her brother is a friend of mine and we’re both on our way to meet him. And last, isn’t your mother already in a relationship? A happy one, last I checked?” Then he bends down to look at the child directly in his eyes and, surprising Isabella, ruffles his hair with much affection, “Or is it because you don’t want your mother to be with someone else? Are you jealous she’s not paying as much attention to you like before, mama’s boy?”

The child immediately bristles at that, colorfully cursing the man before him.

At other times Isabella would have blushed at the obscenity coming from the mouth of a child, but at that moment, she is again stunned speechless. Before her, as if without a care in the world, the man—Hayato, is laughing heartily in expense of the sputtering child.

Is he, perhaps, beguiling her again? Lulling her to a false security? Or is it, honest to goodness, genuine?

It must be. Because everyone around them is laughing along as well. The child is, too, after being soothed by a woman a couple of years older than her. Suddenly, he is surrounded by people before her eyes and they’re all laughing and smiling and cheerful and bright. And in the middle of that, her savior, Hayato, is soaking it all in. Returning a greeting there, frowning grouchily at a tease here. They’re all so comfortable with each other that she can’t help but feel left out. But more than that, thoroughly ashamed.

She’s heard so many negative things about the Mafia, and she believed in it, angry that it had taken her brother away. But her own brother has been _trying trying trying_ to let her see that a converse exists as well. And now… Perhaps her brother has been right after all.

So she smiles, and laughs along as well. And when the last of the well-wishers go back to the park, or to their respective businesses and shops, she hums happily beside him and when he looks curiously at her, she smiles cheekily up at him and says, “My, you’re Mr. Popular, aren’t you?”

His eyes widen a bit in surprise, and then, unexpectedly, blushes a beautiful shade of crimson.

She laughs at that, and keeps on laughing even when he begins to frown exasperatedly at her. He shakes his head, mutters darkly under his breath, and walks away with her luggage in tow. He doesn’t wait for her, doesn’t even look back, but Isabella finds this humorous and so she laughs harder as she catches up to him.

(Behind them, the men following release a sigh of relief. When the crowd had started gathering around their capo, the Storm Guardian had kept them in their places with meaningful glares. It had been the most frustrating, most nerve-wracking few minutes of their lives; all of them wary that someone in the crowd might take the opportunity. Praising whatever gods there may be that nothing had happened, they follow silently along, hoping that no one else would stop the Storm Guardian.)

Now more relaxed, and with the awkward atmosphere finally gone, Isabella turns to Hayato with a smile and curiously asks, “How do they all know you? Is the Vongola that popular around here?”

He snorts amusedly at her but when he answers his voice is serious, “Yes, everyone has heard about the Vongola, we have a branch here after all, but they know nothing about it other than it being a powerful Mafia Family. I don’t know what Nikolai has said to you, but you should at least know that saying the family name so casually like that would only bring trouble. This isn’t a game, Isabella,” he says, looking at her straight in the eyes so she could understand the importance of it, “If an opposing Famiglia knows, it’s not a far-fetched idea that they’d make use of you against your own brother. If you want to keep him safe, then you must keep yourself safe as well.”

(Upon hearing those words, the Storm Guardian’s men all roll their eyes in mild frustration. They’ve all seen it after all. How it had taken years and years for the Tenth to ingrain that same thought in the Storm Guardian. _Keep safe, so that I too will feel safe_ , the Tenth would always say—words that are both a rebuke and a reminder of the Storm Guardian’s own importance.)

Understanding that it is a gentle warning, Isabella nods and apologizes softly.

“I guess I just didn’t want to think about Nikolai being in danger all the time. We only have each other now.”

Knowing that a thought like this would dampen the atmosphere, she shakes the thought away and asks, “Do they know you’re part of… you know, the Family?”

He smiles at her, and now that the awkwardness between them is gone, the smile once again does wonders to her very female mind. But this is her brother’s friend, he had said so back then! And he _is_ younger than her… So she destroys any offending thought, and focuses instead on the words, “No, they don’t know anything about my involvement with it. But the Vongola has many businesses, and not all illegal, mind you, so an occasional showing up is required now and then.”

“Business? Like what?”

The smile turns into a smirk, and while she won’t think about how _that_ transforms the young man’s face into something more glorious, she follows his fingers as he points to a building in the distance. Isabella could see a facility of some sort. It’s not a high-rise building; in fact, it only has four floors as far as she could see. Too far to clearly tell, and hoping it isn’t some sort of laboratory for human experiments, she ventures, “A school?”

He nods, “It’s a private school funded by the Vongola, but its fees aren’t as high. A lot of families in this area can hardly afford to go to school, so the Tenth built it there. Unfortunately, he never has the time to watch over though, so I’ve been assigned to do so in his stead. That also means I’ve been coming and going here for a while. I just met a lot of the people here during that time.”

The answer doesn’t satisfy her though.

“But they adore you,” she states matter-of-factly, making the other man frown in embarrassment, “It can’t be just that?”

Scratching at an invisible itch on his cheek, he looks away from her and sputters mock indignantly, “Th-that’s none of your business, woman!”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, shaking her head in amusement.

(The men, too, once again roll their eyes at the Storm Guardian. Because just as charismatic and mesmerizing as the Tenth is to his people, so too do _all_ of his Guardians. Different charms, perhaps, but there is always an air about them that separates them from the rest. Despite the Storm Guardian’s prickly and sometimes standoffish personality, none of them have ever been surprised to find crowds of people surrounding the Guardian. Their only complaint is that it makes their job all the more harder, of course.)

Isabella’s about to ask another question when Hayato suddenly stops in front of a bookstore and says, “We’re here.”

She can’t help it; she looks around her, trying to find signs of a hospital.

“Come on,” he urges impatiently, that smirk on his face telling her he’s amused at her expense, “And try not to act too suspicious.”

“Very funny,” she snaps back, unable to stop the thought that this person may not be the man her brother described. It’s rude, she knows, because the man has accompanied her and carried her luggage and has been such a gentleman, but seriously, a bookstore?

Somehow, he reads the doubt in her expression so he doesn’t take offense. He simply gestures at her towards the bookstore.

(An entrance that they would never normally take (it’s too open and too exposed), the Storm’s men are on high alert. Though there are a few people walking about, none of them faces from opposing families (they checked, multiples times), it’s always better to be safe than sorry.)

Isabella, sensing no deceit, follows. He opens the door for her, and when they’re both inside, he only nods at the man at the counter, then he leads her towards the—

“Extraterrestrial section?”

He grunts, “Don’t mind it. One of us has got a rotten sense of humor.”

And then he suddenly turns around, and when she does too, she lets out a tiny squeak upon seeing men surrounding them on all sides. She’s about to yell for help, already in the midst of panicking, but the young man touches her arm and it’s so warm and safe and sure that her fears are quelled immediately.

Once she’s calmed herself down, the young man turns to the men, six of them she counts, and gives them all a good glare. They aren’t fazed by it, even when she unconsciously backs away seeing it, and for a moment, she wonders if they are as good as gone. But then the one nearest Hayato steps forward, and from serial killer stoic, he’s suddenly all sheepish smiles and nervous laughter when he says, “Sorry, capo. Didn’t mean to scare her.”

The others immediately drop the blank stares, and they’re all suddenly smugly smirking or silently snickering or just plain bored that it confuses her. So she turns to Hayato and asks, “Do you know them?”

Hayato grunts again, an annoyed frown settling over his face; and though it’s strange to think to yourself that _this_ must be his usual expression, she accepts it nevertheless and listens in surprise when he says, “Yeah. They’re working for me. Don’t mind them.”

“Working for you?” she repeats, amazed. Caught up in amazement, she lightly notes that Hayato’s pulling a book from the shelf and then suddenly, another shelf at the far end of the room slides away. She’s still in the middle of processing what had just happened, when she feels a hand on her elbow, gently leading her towards the opening.

She’s dimly aware it’s not Hayato leading her, he’s in front of her still dragging her luggage with him after all, but she can’t help but be a little overwhelmed by all this. She really hadn’t been expecting anything, but a hidden entrance via sliding bookshelf is a little too much sci-fi for her!

She’s snapped out of her thoughts when she hears Hayato speak, “Lucas, we’re going to the infirmary first. And when I say ‘we’, I meant Isabella and I. All of you should get your rest.”

The man on Hayato’s right, tall and slender, with shoulder length sandy hair, and with sharp, sharp eyes that Isabella is sure could see through anything, shakes his head and politely says, “I beg your pardon, sir,” with a deep baritone voice tinged with a British accent that sends invisible shivers down Isabella’s spine. “It’s really all the same for us,” he continues, deferential but defiant at the same time, “I doubt any of us could rest until we are sure that you are where you’re supposed to be. Sir,” he adds, as if challenging Hayato to disagree.

But Hayato does disagree. He shakes his head and asks, “And where am I supposed to be? Aren’t we already here? You’ve done your job. Now rest.”

Lucas glances quickly at Isabella, who catches it because she’s been staring at the man who must, _at least_ , be ten years older than her, before turning back to Hayato, “While I always do enjoy our banters, Hayato. Both of us know how it will end. Besides, we have an audience with us now.”

Hayato looks at her then, thoughtful.

“Don’t sweat it, boss,” another man, this time someone much closer to them in age, suddenly pipes up. He’s been standing behind her as they walk seemingly endless hallways, passing by rooms large and small, so all she notices of him is his oddly olive-colored hair. But that’s a lie, really. She’s noticed him the moment they appeared in the bookstore. She doesn’t dare turn around to look at him now, because although she feels safe with Hayato she isn’t quite sure about the men around her, but she remembers the young man having an eye patch covering his right eye, the various piercings and accessories he has on his person. And how could she forget that shark-like smile or his equally shark-like teeth?

He’s slung an arm around Hayato’s shoulder now; Hayato’s irritation very obvious on his face. Cackling, he shakes Hayato a bit and says, “We just wanna make absolute sure, is all! An’ I swear we’ll behave when we visit the invalids, boss! ‘Coz I dunno aboutcha boss, but the last time ya wandered around unsupervised, ya ended up an invalid—,”

Maximum irritation level reached, Isabella isn’t surprised when Hayato violently disentangles himself from the other man; isn’t at all surprised to hear him yell, “Nigel, shut the fuck—,”

“Now, now boss!” Nigel, laughing still but quickly goes behind her once again, appeases, “We know ‘twas an accident an’ all, but no offense boss, but yer a real horrible patient! We don’ wanna let ya get hurt cause—,”

“You shark freak, I’m gonna blow you up!”

And as Isabella watches the sudden scuffle, watches how Lucas restrain Hayato with such familiarity, watches how the rest of the men are looking amusedly at the scene, she’s struck with a sudden revelation.

In their eyes, she’s a stranger.

In their eyes, she could be a threat—a threat to someone very, very important to them.

She may not understand how the Mafia works, but she doesn’t need to, to recognize those looks. It’s the same one she sees in her eyes after all, whenever she thinks about her own brother.

So she smiles in understanding, now unafraid of the men surrounding her.

They eventually make it to the hospital wing, with much detours and stopovers involved. But once they do, only Lucas stays with them, the rest scattering all over the place. She doesn’t question where they’ve gone to; all she sees and hears are Hayato and the station nurse conversing about her brother. Then he’s nodding at her, serious but tender all at once.

“He’s not injured that badly,” she hears him say. She knows this, her brother had been able to write to her and complain about his injuries after all. She knows this, but she can’t make herself believe it until she sees him with her own eyes. This is the reason why she had dropped everything to be here.

She doesn’t remembering walking, or entering a room, but suddenly she finds herself standing in front a bed where her brother’s currently sleeping. All at once she goes back into focus. She notices how there are three more patients in the room, even though it’s big enough to contain more. She notices that a nurse is with them, talking in hushed but gentle tones to Hayato and Lucas; Hayato, who is frowning in worry even as Lucas places a placating hand on his shoulder.

And then he turns to her, and asks, “Are you okay?”

Is she?

Suddenly her brother stirs from sleep, and as he sits up, he catches sight of her and for a moment, all he does is stare. A couple of emotions fan across his face but Isabella doesn’t see it. In her eyes, all she sees is her brother—safe and sound, and yes injured, but still very much alive.

So she runs to him and wraps her arms around him. And though she’s afraid he’ll get hurt again, worrying about the future would only take time away from the present. Sobbing freely on her brother’s shoulder, she pulls him closer to her and says… well, she tries to think of something to say, but she knows words aren’t needed.

She’s here. And he’s here. There is no need for anything else.

They talk for a while, and they laugh and cry and laugh. When they’re both comfortable in silence, she suddenly realizes that Hayato is gone.

And that she hadn’t thanked him for bringing her to her brother.

So she says, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to see him again, but if I don’t, tell Hayato ‘thank you’ for me? He brought me here and he’s been so nice and understanding and I feel horrible enough ignoring him when I saw you,” confused at the strange look on her brother’s face, she asks, “You two are friends, right?”

“ _Friends?_ ” he repeats, voice a little higher than usual. A terrified expression settles on her brother’s face when he says, “Isabella, he’s my boss! H-how in the world did you two meet?! And did I just hear it right? He _accompanied_ you here? And that he’s _nice_ and _understanding_? H-he,” Nikolai asks, voice now hushed as he whispers, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Hurt me?!" she whispers back, “Why would he—,” and then she remembers what she had been thinking of him, so she smiles sheepishly and admits, “I guess I thought he would. I thought he’d hurt that child, too, when the child tried to tackle him. But he really is nice. He even carried my luggage for me all the way here. And he even protected me from cars,” she says, giggling at the memory.

“Why would you ask something like that?” she asks her brother, curious.

“B-because there are rumors—,” but her brother suddenly shakes his head, frowning. He turns to her, looking serious, and asks, “He was really nice to you, Isabella? Didn’t threaten anyone, o-or tried to shoot at anyone?”

“No,” she answers, still confused, “Why?”

Nikolai laughs and with a wry smile, replies, “Nothing. I’ve never met him, you see. But he’s the Tenth’s right-hand man, so I was curious. Turns out, they really are just rumors. Serves me right for believing something so stupid.”

Isabella’s still stuck at ‘right-hand man’ so with wide eyes and horrible realization, she says, “Wait, what? Right-hand man… That Hayato?!”

Nikolai frowns at her but nods anyway, “Don’t refer him so casually like that, Isabella! H-he might, I don’t know! Fire me for disrespect!”

“Oh, I assure you, he won’t,” a voice suddenly says. The siblings turn towards the speaker, and while Nikolai pales at the sight of Lucas, Isabella turns to him and asks, “Hayato… He’s really someone important, huh? I-I… I thought he was, when you called him ‘boss’, but I didn’t realize—and I was so rude to him, too! I shouldn’t have…! I must have been such an inconvenience to him! C-could you tell him, I’m sorr—,”

Before she could finish, Lucas quickly interjects with a small, polite smile, “I assure you, Miss Isabella, you have not inconvenienced him at all. He quite enjoyed the walk, if I do say so myself. And as for you, Mr. di Felice,” he says, turning to Nikolai. There’s no expression on Lucas’ face except for the ever-polite smile, so when he speaks Nikolai flinches, fearing the worst.

“While I understand that you are not used to the workings of the Vongola yet, and while yes, the Vongola respects your privacy and allows outside correspondence to whomever you like, please bear in mind the organization you are working for,” now looking sternly at the young agent, Lucas continues, “No system is perfect. And while I boast of the Vongola’s advanced technologies, information is still information—there will always be a possibility of outside interference. Next time,” he says, and though his expression doesn’t change Nikolai could feel the amusement coming from the older man, “Next time, don’t tell your sister where you are. You don’t want to make her worry, yes?”

Unable to think of a proper response, Nikolai only nods.

Lucas nods back and bids them farewell before turning away and out of the room.

The siblings are silent for a while, each processing what had just happened. Then Isabella timidly says, “I guess I won’t be able to visit you again, Nikolai.”

Before he could think more of that, Nikolai hears the quiet laughter of a patient near him.

They turn to the older man, and when he sees their questioning look at him, he smiles patiently at them and explains, “Forgive me, for interrupting. And for overhearing your conversation.”

Another man, this time around the same age as Isabella, interjects, “Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it, Breggio.” Turning to them, he says, “Ignore him. He’s a rude, old man who likes to intrude on others’ businesses.”

“Excuse you, Flavio! I am _not_ a busybody. I’m just,” he says, grinning cheekily, “overly concerned about the wellbeing of others!”

Flavio once again turns to them and reiterates, “Ignore him.”

“Psh, boy. Have a heart! We can’t have this beautiful young lady think badly of the Vongola. Especially now,” he says, suddenly serious, “The Tenth Generation has done wonders for the Famiglia.”

He explains how different things have turned, ever since the Tenth took up the mantle. How, in the few years since the current generation has begun leading, many things have changed for the better.

“Especially for us,” he stresses, a smile dancing upon his lips, “It was very different. Before. Now there are fewer restrictions. So yes, young lady, although you may not be able to visit your brother, no one will stop him from visiting you. The Vongola isn’t a prison. Not anymore. It has become a very, very good Famiglia.”

There had been _something_ in the man’s tone when he mentioned _Famiglia._ And though Isabella knows nothing about the man, somehow, she feels that the man might not have meant the Mafia at all.

Suddenly, she remembers that awkward silence between her and the right-hand man; remembers how that tense atmosphere had only been broken by an enthusiastic greeting of a child, like he would an elder brother. She remembers Lucas, and of course that olive-haired man; remembers the dedication and devotion they had in their eyes, remembers how she had thought that it is the same look she gets when she thinks of her brother. And then she remembers how at ease everyone had been when she had passed them by, how they all greeted and conversed with each other as if they had known one another for a very long time.

So she smiles. At last, finally free of the worries she has for her only brother.

Turning to him, she nods as she smiles widely, “It _is_ a very, very good Famiglia.”

 


End file.
